Don't Look
by TakeAnotherBow
Summary: Reports of a certain vigilante roaming the streets of Hell's kitchen stir interest in higher circles. One avenger in particular wonders if this man could be a useful ally, and decides to investigate. Mild violence. Includes search for Bucky.
1. Chapter 1: Target Spotted

The thing about new players in town was that they never really heeded the warnings. They, of course, have heard of the infamous Daredevil keeping the streets of Hell's Kitchen clean, but like many before them, they always seem to think that _they_ would never be caught by him. That their predecessors were probably a bunch of dumbasses to have let themselves get caught by some do-gooder in a red costume.

This one, for instance, was an experienced weapons smuggler, thinking much the same way, having gotten his experience elsewhere. In Hell's Kitchen, things didn't quite work like they did in other places.

The red figure squatted on the edge of a tall building, giving off the impression of a gargoyle, unmoving in the cool night breeze. This night smelled like any other nights to him: pollution, rain, sea and concrete. Police sirens, the hum of engines, footsteps, lighters being lit, glasses clanking against other glasses, laughter, screams, snores and barking were just a few examples of the things he was able to hear this time of the day. However, none of those counted as he concentrated on the deal being made in the secluded corner below him.

The buyer was obviously tense. So far he hadn't caught Daredevil's attention, as the vigilante focused on taking care of the matter of Wilson Fisk. Now that the Kingpin was behind bars, however, he wasn't quite so safe, and he knew it.

'Are you _sure_ nobody followed you?' He asked the seller. 'You can never be too careful, not with that masked psycho running around on the streets.'

'Calm down, old man,' said the seller. 'The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you can stop worrying about that wanker catching us with our pants down.'

The buyer grunted, unconvinced.

'You sure know how to make a client feel better,' he muttered. He shifted his weight, putting one hand on his hip and the other on his chin. He was studying the crates inside the van before him, filled with automatic rifles and ammo. 'I'll give a thousand for each box,' he declared.

'Now you just want to rip me off,' the seller complained.

'Do you want to get rid of this incriminating amount of weaponry before your next shipment or not?' The buyer asked, obviously not wanting to spend more money or time there than absolutely necessary.

His time was running out, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen didn't need a lot of it. He slipped off the side of the building, soundless and unnoticed by the bodyguards hired by both parties of the ordeal. Silently, he approached the closest one, taking him down with a single, swift move. No one noticed a thing, not yet. He was able to take down one more bodyguard before being spotted by the rest, but even then he was able to slip out of their sight and attack them unawares. The whole thig was over in just over a minute, and the police, drawn in by reports of gunshots in the area, found a handful of criminals prepared for arrest.

Watching it all go down from blocks away was a man, perched on his own spot on the roof of yet another tall building. Sharp eyes followed the red suit as he fled the scene, navigating the rooftops with ease.

'Target spotted,' he murmured as he started towards the direction Daredevil was headed, aiming to cut him off instead of chasing him.


	2. Chapter 2: The least popular Avenger

_Target spotted._

There was one very important thing about Daredevil, aside from his true identity, that very few people knew: he was more than an ordinary man who just decided to fight crime one day. He had one minor disadvantage and one hell of an advantage to make up for it. People appeared to assume that there was some way he could see through the mask that covered his eyes, and so they never even knew there was more to him than his fighting skills.

They never knew that there was no line of sight they could be out of.

Despite hearing what the man on the rooftop a few blocks aways had said, he did not change his course. He wanted to know who it was that targeted him and why. When the man that was following him got close enough, he decided to turn the situation to his advantage, and approached the rooftops where their paths would eventually meet out of sight.

The man came to a halt when he did not meet him where he had expected to. He raised his right hand over his shoulder, and in his left, he held a complicated instrument. Light, but sturdy. A bow. So he was reaching for an arrow. That was certainly an unusual weapon of choice nowadays.

When the archer turned his back to his hiding place, he decided to reveal himself.

'What do you want?' He asked.

The man turned around, surprised.

'I just wanted to meet the infamous Daredevil in person,' he replied.

'You have heard of me,' the vigilante remarked. 'I can't say the same about you.'

'That's understandable,' the archer shrugged. 'I'm possibly the least popular Avenger.'

The man's suit was certainly weird, but when you fight side by side with people like Thor, Captain America or Iron Man, that ceises to put you off. The horns were a cheesy addition, but he knew the name was given to him before the new mask.

In the dark, he couldn't really see the man's eyes.

'You're Hawkeye, then?' He asked, and they began slowly circling eachother. 'Should I be worried?'

'I don't know,' Clint said, pensively. 'Should you?'

The guy actually laughed. His smirk looked intimidating under the red mask, and as the light hit his face in a new angle, Hawkeye realised that his mask was made in such a way that it concealed his eyes completely. That was a weird touch, perhaps even weirder than the horns.

'If you wanted to kill me, you would have already tried,' he said.

'Tried?' Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. This guy was certainly cocky, but he couldn't blame him, for so was he, at least a little bit. The other man kept smirking. 'I would have thought a man like you wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating possible opponents.'

'I have places to be,' Daredevil interjected. 'What would an Avenger get out of meeting me?'

'An ally, perhaps?' Hawkeye replied. 'That is if you _are_ the protector of the city the papers say you are.'

'They didn't always use to say that,' Daredevil quipped.

'No,' Hawkeye admitted. 'They didn't. But I saw what you did to those smugglers. You didn't even kill any of them.'

'The Avengers aren't so popular, even despite having save the world more than once,' Daredevil said, changing the subject, something that did not go unnoticed. Hawkeye, of course, already knew that. It didn't feel good, being hated when all you were trying to do was save people's lives. A feeling Daredevil was probably also familiar with. 'But you've already got a sizable team. Why would you need an ally such as myself?'

'To be honest, it's more about getting to you first,' Hawkeye admitted. 'Your infamy extends beyond Hell's Kitchen. We simply want to make sure that you won't become a threat.'

Daredevil tilted his head in acknowledgement.

'Fair enough,' he said. 'Say I accept this alliance. Then what?'

'We'd just have to see, won't we?' Hawkeye replied. 'Think on it.'

* * *

 **Author's note: Alright, so things are getting interesting! To be completely honest with you readers, I only have a very vague idea of where this is going, but I am trying to stir it towards Captain America and his search for Bucky. I adore Falcon, so he's gonna make an appearance, too. I welcome any and all ideas in either reviews or private messages. As for romance, that's also something I'm gonna have to decide if I want to touch on or not.**

 **That's all for now, folks. Next chapter coming soon, hopefully.**


	3. Chapter 3: A bad night for some

Foggy's attitude towards Matt's night time activities took a rather drastic turn for the annoying, once he forgave Matt for lying to him. He treated the whole thing with piqued interest, sometimes even forgetting that not everyone in the office actually knew about his little secret.

The two of them were sitting at opposite sides of a table, gathering all the important bits of information they needed to win their newest case. Karen was sitting at her desk, studying a newspaper intently. Foggy didn't mind her.

'So…' he began, throwing his feet up on the edge of the table. 'How did your night go?'

Matt regarded Foggy's indiscreet approach to the subject with a faint look of disapproval.

'Uneventful,' he replied. In reality, the opposite was true: the night was quite interesting. Still, he wasn't about to get into detail with Foggy right then and there. Maybe not at all.

He did think on the Avenger's offer. It was intriguing, to say the least, and an alliance like that would no doubt benefit him in the long run (''In the long run'' was an optimistic way to think about it, but also the healthy way). Hawkeye would probably try to make contact soon enough, and he was ready to tackle him with even more questions about his offer.

'You're no fun,' Foggy decided, waving a pen in Matt's direction; something he now knew his friend could sense. Karen chuckled from behind her desk, a sound Matt was glad to hear each day. He knew there was still something wrong with her, that something happened along the way that she still wasn't ready to talk about. And that it was amongst the kind of things he knew better than to pry on. For now, he tried to do all he could to make her happy, to make her forget whatever it was that tore her world apart.

* * *

Steve Rogers, whose life took several turns to the weird and never really managed to get out of it, knew better than not to believe Hawkeye's story about the vigilante of Hell's Kitchen. The story about how one man in a red suit with horns managed to take down seven men single-handedly, to be precise. Hell's Kitchen. Guy with horns wearing red. Daredevil. Just another Tuesday for Captain America.

'And you think he can be trusted?' He asked the archer, skeptically.

'There were _no casualties_ in the entire ordeal,' Clint said, waving his hands to emphasize the importance of that fact. 'I don't think they get more trustworthy than that.'

Steve nodded, more to himself than to Clint, as he considered the possibilities.

'I'd like to meet this guy,' he decided finally.

* * *

Matt's head wasn't completely into the game that night, but thankfully, nothing that required more than just mindlessly beating up thugs happened so far. This way he was able to ponder on his friends. More specifically, Karen.

Him and Foggy had managed to get a few more laughs out of her before they called it a day. Foggy had ''important buisness'' to attend to and had left with a hurry, leaving Matt and Karen to themselves. Karen had convinced Matt to stay out with her a little longer, which hadn't required a lot of effort or time, as he gladly did anything to make her feel better. She still hadn't opened up about what happened to her world, but they were making progress. Matt didn't really bring it up, as to not scare her away. It was when they separated that her behavior really had him worried.

 _'I had a lovely time,' Karen's voice rang like bells as she spoke, back at the door of her apartment. 'Thank you, Matt. I needed this.'_

 _Matt couldn't help but grin whenever she sounded so happy. He said something about how he too had a good time. Then, all too suddenly, there was a shift in Karen's posture as she realised that it was over, that she'd have to go back into her apartment, alone, and face reality again. She opened her mouth to say goodbye, but the words didn't come, as if saying goodbye would be the thing that truly ended this illusion of happiness she had going. Matt found her shoulder with one hand, and trailed it to the crook of her neck._

 _'Karen,' worry creased his brow and laced his words as he spoke, softly and warily. 'Are you going to be alright?'_

 _Karen was silent for a while. She might have even given a small nod._

 _'Yes,' she replied, so softly, her voice so tiny it almost got lost in the noises of the world around them. Matt gave her shoulder a final squeeze before they parted ways, and he heard her sigh loudly as he left._

He had just stopped a mugging and was perching on one of Hell's Kitchen's rooftops when he heard him again.

Hawkeye.

This time, he had a friend with him. He straightened up and turned the way they were coming from. They were still far away, but they were definetly heading straight towards him. He had to admit, Hawkeye deserved his nickname if he was able to spot him from so far away.

* * *

He was waiting for them, almost like last time, when Hawkeye thought he was the one tracking the Daredevil, and not the other way around.

'You've brought a friend,' the man assessed. 'Should I be intimidated?'

'Oh him?' Hawkeye pretended to notice the man standing beside him for the first time. 'This is Captain America, also known as-'

'Steve Rogers,' the Captain interrupted, holding a hand out towards Daredevil. The other man raised his hand slowly, almost uncertainly, but his grip was firm as they shook hands.

'Excuse me if I'm not all too eager to reveal my true identity to you,' he said to the Capain, sounding more sincere than sarcastic.

'That's ok,' Steve said. 'I just wanted to talk…' Daredevil's head turned sharply, as if he was listening intently to something. This went on for a few seconds before he turned around completely.

'That will have to wait,' he said.

'What is it?' Steve asked.

'There's a man I need to track,' was Daredevil's only reply before he jumped from the roof.

Steve signaled Hawkeye to hang back as Daredevil came to a halt a few rooftops before them. After a few long minutes, a bunch of men exited the building below him and drove off in their cars. Steve and Clint caught up with him just as he was about to leave.

'What was all that about?' Steve demanded.

'Human traffickers,' Daredevil explained. 'I thought I'd… seen the last of them when Wilson Fisk's men took down the Russians. I was wrong. I've been meaning to catch this guy in the act for a while. It appears now is my chance to do just that.'

'Whoa there, man... Did you say human trafficking?' Clint asked, clearly disturbed. Daredevil gave him a curt nod. Then it was settled. Clint was not about to allow to let people be sold like cattle to the highest bidder. 'Then count us in,' he said, determined.

'Are you sure you want to do this?' Daredevil asked. 'I thought you Avengers had bigger fish to fry. What was it last time? Flying robots?'

'Do you want our help or not?' Clint asked, slightly annoyed at the assumption that he's deem human traffickers too small a target to care.

'I can't say I don't,' Daredevil replied, turning around. 'It won't hurt to have someone watch my back for a change.'

* * *

The thugs gathered at a closed-off part of the docks, secluded and surrounded by shipping containers upon shipping containers, expertly hidden from prying eyes.

'How did you know they'd be here?' Hawkeye asked.

'I heard them talk about it.'

' _Heard_ them?' Steve asked with disbelief. 'They were inside a building. You couldn't even have known in which apartment exactly.'

'They _are_ here, aren't they?' Daredevil deadpanned. 'The supplier should be arriving any second now… In three… two...'

A black van turned the corner just as he would have said ''one'', and made it's way into the docks.

'Twelve people are guarding the area,' Daredevil said. 'There are three women in the van and one young man. The ship to pick them up is set to arrive in less than half an hour.'

'What's the plan?' Hawkeye asked, deciding to shelf the important question of how the hell did he know all that for after they were done with the bad guys.

'The Captain and I move closer to flank them. When we're in position, I'll signal you to start shooting. And no killshots.'

They didn't waste more time. Hawkeye stayed put on his vantage point, while Steve and Daredevil sneaked closer to the area. When the two took their positions close to some of the guards, Daredevil nodded in Hawkeye's direction.

The first arrow struck simultaneously with the first punch and the first kick. The Captain and Daredevil took advantage of their surroundings, dispatching their targets in silarly athletic ways, often climbing on top of containers to strike them from above. Hawkeye covered them, while also making sure that the innocent civilians they planned to sell came to no harm. It came down to two against three, Clint having sniped the fourth one down just a split second after they surrounded Steve and Daredevil. The ensuing fistfight wouldn't last long, but Clint was no longer in a position from which he could hit them. He climbed to get a better angle.

Meanwhile, down between the shipping containers, the three remaining bodyguards put up quite the fight, but they were no match to Captain America and Daredevil, even with Steven having left his shield back at the base, not wanting to stir too much attention with his iconic instrument.

The three men have recieved a few blows, but were regrouping around the two heroes, going at them from three directions. When they were close enough, Steve ducked, letting Daredevil roll over him, surprising the two men coming at them from that direction with a swift kick. Steve lashed out from his semi-crouch, hitting the thir man square in the bottom of the jaw and knocking him out cold. Now that their enemies were reduced to two, it didn't take long to take them down. The two moved in unison, almost mirroring eachother's move as they leapt into the air, spinning vertically to kick their opponents to the ground.

Steve ran over to the van containing the civilians as soon as the bodies hit the floor, and untied their hands and feet.

'Stay here,' he said told them after having calmed them down. 'The police will be here shortly to get you home safely.'

* * *

'I think this is about time to address the question I'm willing to bet both of us are dying to ask,' Hawkeye said, once they were on the rooftops of Hell's Kitchen again. Daredevil stopped in his track and turned to face them. Hawkeye didn't bother to actually ask the question.

'You want to know how I knew all those things,' Daredevil more stated than asked. Steve and Clint both nodded. Daredevil pointed in their general direction. 'You just nodded.'

Clint frowned.

'So?'

'I knew what I told you because I could hear them all, smell them all from blocks away,' Daredevil explained.

'Bullshit,' Hawkeye called, stepping closer to Daredevil and jabbing a finger at him. 'Nobody can hear that good.'

' _I_ can.'

It was Steve's turn to speak, and he was much more level-headed than his friend.

'How?' He asked.

'Before I tell you, I need to know if I can trust you not to tell it to anyone, not even to your higher ups. The last thing I need is some shady agency tracking my every move all the time,' Daredevil said. 'And know that if you're lying, I'll know.'

'Your secret is yours only to tell,' Steve assured him. Daredevil smiled.

'Thank you,' he said, satisfied with Steve's earnest reply. There was a reason he was Captain America, after all. 'Tell me where I can find you tomorrow, during the day, and I'll explain it all.'

* * *

 **Yet another chapter down! I still can't promise that this is going anywhere, but I'll keep writing, if only to amuse myself. You can expect more of the Avengers in the next chapter, which is hopefully coming soon!**


	4. Chapter 4: An elaborate ruse, perhaps?

**Warning: Spoilers for Age of Ultron ahead! You have been warned.**

* * *

Matt was immediately approached by an agent as he entered the Avengers headquarters. The space he stepped into was large, mainly made of metal and glass. People came and left, sometimes barely acknowledging each other, other times immersed in important discussions about highly important missions, or the perception of the Avengers around the world. It was an interesting place, to say the least.

'Can I help you?' The agent asked.

'I'm here to meet with Captain Rogers and Agent Barton,' Matt explained. 'I believe they're expecting me.'

'Huh,' Matt could practically hear the cogs turning in the young agent's mind as he tried to figure out what a civilian like him could possibly have to do with the Avengers. 'I'll inform them you've arrived, Mr…?'

'Matt Murdock,' Matt said, helpfully. 'Ah, and tell them… Tell them I'm here to answer their questions. As promised.'

'Will do, Mr. Murdock,' said the agent. 'There are some seats back the way you came from, if you'd like to sit down.' Matt didn't, choosing to stand instead as he listened to the footsteps of the agent leaving the large space they were in. He was headed for the other side of the building, a part that was too far away and too soundproof for him to get a clear image of. Soon enough, though, he heard a new pair of footsteps coming his way, accompanied by the revealing scent of the two Avengers he has met previously.

Matt's grin grew wider the closer the two got. He imagined their faces would be priceless.

'There's someone here to…' The agent hesitated. 'You have a visitor. A Mr. Matt Murdock. He said he says he's here to answer your questions, as promised.'

Steve and Clint shared a knowing look. They followed the agent back to where he left their visitor eagerly, curious as to who this guy really was.

Neither of them expected what they saw, and they have both seen weird things in their time.

Perhaps Steve has seen more weird shit. Perhaps that was why his jaw didn't drop quite as spectacularly as Clint's. The archer couldn't decide if he envied him for that or not.

Matt Murdock, _Daredevil_ , was wearing a rather smart suit and dark red, circular sunglasses. In his hand he held a long, white cane. Over all, he looked like the least threatening person in the entire facility. He must have been an accountant or a lawyer or something.

It all had to be some sort of a joke. An alibi. An elaborate disguise so that no one would ever suspect who he secretly was. Or maybe he was just a dummy, and the Daredevil was even more paranoid than he originally thought.

Steve had gotten ahead of Clint, and was now standing right in front of the blind man.

'Mr. Murdock,' if the Captain was in any way surprised, it didn't show in his voice. Instead, he wore a knowing smirk, the mark of someone who respects, maybe even admires the other.

'Captain,' the man said, 'Agent Barton. You must have a lot of questions, but first I'd rather we retired to a more private place, where no one can overhear our conversation.'

'Of course,' Steve said. 'I'm sure there is a meeting room we could use. '

'And no cameras. Or recording devices of any sort,' Murdock continued. 'I'm still very much serious about keeping as low a profile as possible.'

In the end they decided it would be best to take a walk at the outer limits of the training grounds, well out of the earshot of any prying ears or microphones, and out of the cameras' sight.

'You are probably wondering how a blind man can do what I do night by night,' Murdock began. This was obviously not the first time he had to explain himself. 'Or if I'm even blind at all.'

'You've got that right,' Clint's tone was almost hostile, accusing even. Steve regarded him with a scolding look.

'Of course you're skeptical,' Murdock said. He wore a constant smile, one that reminded Clint of a nursery teacher listening to the little children's antics. Smug bastard. 'You have every reason to be. But I assure you, this isn't just a cover, I _did_ lose my sight. When I was nine, to be exact. I was in a car accident, and some sort of chemicals splashed into my eyes somewhere along the way. It blinded me, but… It also heightened my senses. I can hear better, smell better, feel the slightest lesions on a surface and sense the smallest changes in temperature. I could hear your heartbeats before you could even see me. That's also how I knew you weren't lying to me the other night,' he turned his head ever so slightly towards Steve to indicate he was the one he was talking to.

A few years ago Clint would have scoffed at Murdock's story. '' _Sense enhancing chemicals_ my ass,'' he would have said. He might have even kicked the man out of the building for trying to feed him such tall tales. But that was before he found out that the Norse gods existed, before one of them waged war on Earth with an army of space aliens; or before that one time an artificial intelligence tried to destroy all human life on earth with his army of flying robots and lifted part of a city. Before Jarvis became the freaking Vision. No, now he wouldn't dismiss the possibility of the existence of something like what blinded Matt Murdock, especially as he stood beside Captain America, a genetically engineered soldier.

'Ok, so that makes sense, weirdly,' he admitted, finally. 'And you decided to fight crime with your powers?' Murdock shrugged.

'Basically,' he said.

Clint nodded to himself. He could appreciate decisions like that.

'You just nodded,' Murdock observed.

'Wait,' Steve interjected. 'Are you saying that you even sense nods?'

'Yes, and more,' Murdock replied. 'It's more of a sum of different ways of perception. A different way to see.'

'So you don't actually need that cane,' Clint asked, pointing at the cane Murdock was still carrying in his hand.

'It's expected of me,' the man said. 'But no, I don't actually need it, not for getting around.' He looked like he was about to say something else, but instead stayed silent and listened. 'Someone is coming our way. I think he wants to speak to you,' he said, nodding towards Steve.

He was telling the truth: Sam Wilson appeared jogging towards them with a tablet in his hand.

'Steve,' he called as he got closer. Then he noticed the stranger in their midst. 'Oh. Hello. Sam Wilson,' he said, and raised a hand. 'Handshake?'

Matt chuckled and grabbed Sam's hand, giving it a firm shake.

'Matt Murdock,' he said. 'Pleased to meet you.'

'Likewise,' Sam cluttered, and turned to speak to Steve. There was an urgency in his voice that was hard to ignore. 'Steve, you've got to take a look at this,' he said, pointing at the screen of the tablet he was holding. 'I think it's him.'

* * *

 **OK, so I sort of actually think that Daredevil has little business with the Avengers, but I also like to** **imagine how they'd interact with him, so I'm forcing this relation a bit. Some excitement towards Civil War might also seep through in this fic, even though I don't actually want it to... Again, this is for my own entertainment, and can be discontinued at any time if I grow tired of it or decide that it's actually shit.**

 **As for how often I plan to update? At least once a day. Not all chapters might turn out quite as long as I would want them to be, especially with how busy I am these days, but I'll still try to write something for you guys as often as possible. And on to the next one... later!**


	5. Chapter 5: A Hard Day's Night

The schedule looked like this: wake up, feel horrible, try not to stink, find food, hopefully eat food, find a place to stay, find money, try to sleep, rinse and repeat. Oh, and most importantly, try not to get killed.

Capture equaled death, or worse. Try not to get captured, either. Very important.

Inevitably, some getting-captured had to be involved, as the side-effect of not ''eating food.''

That was last week. The Hydra agents brought him to a place somewhere near the outskirts of New York City, oddly enough, before learning that there was an Avengers base nearby. Naturally, they decided to flee. During the hasty packing-up, he managed to free himself and darted off. They have been on his back eversince, and he couldn't exactly leave the city, not without giving himself away. No, they had a tight grip on him now, and he knew it was only a question of time before they captured him again. Luckily, nothing happened during his capture that could have slowed him down. He escaped.

Every day their grip was getting tighter. He was paranoid, always assessing his surrounding, always planning escape routes and looking for what he could use as a makeshift weapon in case of an attack.

This paranoia of his paid off. The Hydra agent couldn't get close enough to him before he noticed, and he was able to flee, amidst a shower of gunshots, after a long and tiresome chase through the streets of New York.

He really had to lay low now. They would be back, and there would be more of them.

He sighed, tilting his head towards the sky as he leaned against a dirty wall in some run-down district nobody cared about. Soon the day will be over, and he's have to find a place to hang low during the night. He dreaded the night, certain that even if he _would_ be able to get a wink of sleep, it would be filled with nightmares.

* * *

Steve's heartbeat sped up as he watched the newsfootage Sam had brought to show him. It was a report of an on-foot chase across the city during which the chaser shot a rain bullets at the chasee, injuring several civilians in the process and causing thousands of dollars worth of collateral damage, but never actually hitting his target.

The target was Bucky, there was no doubt about it. Even in the amateur recording, it was clear as day. Which would make his chaser an agent of Hydra.

'This just happened,' Sam explained. 'The report is fresh. He's in the city _right now_.'

Steve's expression was dark, unreadable. He spent the last year searching for him, for Bucky. Could he have been in New York the whole time, right under their noses? There was only one way to find out.

'Suit up,' he ordered. Sam didn't need to be told twice: he took of running towards the facility without missing a beat, followed by Hawkeye.

'Murdock,' Steve began, turning to face Matt. 'Ever chased down a supersoldier before?'

* * *

Clint, Steve and Sam were waiting for him at a rooftop near where Bucky Barnes has last been spotted, in Midtown Manhattan. Matt took the last few steps towards them slowly, assessing his surroundings thoroughly. Clint was at the edge of the rooftop, probably studying the streets, calculating. Sam and Steve were immersed in a conversation Matt hasn't heard enough of to completely understand. He had the feeling that even if he had been there from the start, their words would be hard to decrypt. They talked like old friends, and from what he gathered, this mission was very important to them, and to Steve especially.

'So who is this guy, exactly?' He asked the Avengers present.

'His name is James Buchanan Barnes,' Steve explained, hands on his hips as he stepped towards Matt. 'He was my best friend since we were children. Before the serum... After that, we served together in the army, in an elite group dedicated to fighting Hydra. During one of our missions, he was… We thought he fell to his death, but he survived, and he was captured by Hydra. They experimented on him, they did…' He took a shaky breath before he continued. 'They did horrible things to him. They made him into the Winter Soldier, a weapon to be used. The Winter Soldier was responsible for many assassinations between last year and World War II. They kept him in cryo in between missions, that's why he hasn't really aged.'

'We think he might have also been injected with some sort of super-serum, like Steve,' Sam added. 'And he has a metal arm.'

'Prosthetic?' Matt asked.

'Robotic,' Sam replied. That made more sense.

'Judging by the amateur recordings, I think he went that way,' Hawkeye said, pointing in the direction of Hell's Kitchen. Matt smirked.

'In Hell's Kitchen, we have the advantage over Hydra,' Steve said, Matt's smirk not escaping his attention. He was fast to catch on. 'Lets not waste it.'

* * *

Sam has been told not to fly before they spotted Bucky, so as not to give them away too soon. Running around on rooftops came more naturally to the rest of the team than to him, but he didn't complain, just tried not to fall back too much.

'Stop,' Steve ordered. 'Daredevil, see if you can get anything.'

'Will do,' the vigilante nodded. He perched on the brink of the rooftop, tipping his head forward as he listened to the sounds of the streets. 'There's someone…' He spoke slowly, as he was still mostly concentrating on what he was hearing. 'It's not him. He's searching for him, but he hasn't seen him yet… There's more of them. He's talking to them through a communicator. We need to get it.'

Sam was amazed by how much Daredevil could pick up just by listening. Steve had explained to him what he was told by the man himself, but it was one thing to hear about it, and a completely different thing to actually see him in action.

'Then we take it from him,' Steve said. 'Which way?'

Murdock raised an arm, pointing towards the docks.

'I'll lead the way,' he said as he took off. Sam tried not to think of the absurdity of being lead by a blind man.

* * *

'You three hang back, I've got this,' Matt said once they got close to the Hydra operative. He was patroling the docks, all by himself, presenting an easy target. All he had to do is take him down in a stealthy, silent way, so his partners wouldn't know not to talk to him through his communicator. He didn't leave the others time to respond before slipping off the roofs and sneaking up behind his target.

One hand over the man's mouth, he pulled the him into an unlit alley and held him in a choke hold until he passed out. Then, he took his earpiece and tied him to some pipes with thrown-away wires he found lying around. It wasn't long before he rejoined the others on the roof.

'If they spot him, we'll know,' he said, handing the device over to Steve.

'That was fast,' Clint commented. 'So what now, we just listen and wait?'

'No,' Steve said. 'We search, too.'

'Sounds like we won't have to wait for much longer,' Matt said, and nodded towards the communicator piece in Steve's hand. Steve lifted it to his ear.

 _'-got him. All men on my position. Surround this bastard.'_

'Where is he?' Steve asked. Matt stepped to the edge of the roof, leaning over it. He turned his head as he listened to the city.

'He's out of my range, I'm afraid,' he said after a while.

'Then it's my turn,' Sam said, grinning. Before Steve could turn around, his wings were already spread. Matt heard him leap off the building and glide away, heard him rise higher and higher before beginning to circle around the district.

It took a while, but Sam was able to spot a suspicious vehicle, speeding through the streets as if it owned it.

'I think I found them,' he said. 'Black SUV, the same kind we've seen from Hydra before. Huh… They don't go for originality, do they?' Sam's voice mixed with the wind as he soared through the air.

'He's over there,' Hawkeye said, pointing at the sky. Steve squinted, trying to separate Falcon's form from the dark night sky.

'Move out,' he said. 'Gather to Falcon's position. Lets make this count.'

* * *

 **I wanted to make this chapter longer, but I suppose this is as good a place as any to end it. Will Bucky and Cap reunite in the next chapter? Who knows?**


	6. Chapter 6: The Blanket Of Night

He cursed. They have found him much sooner than he anticipated. Starved and exhausted, he forced himself to run, just run whichever way possible. He pushed himself past civilians, turned into alleys, jumped on dumpsters, tried to put as much obstacles between him and his pursuers as possible. He almost fell over as he came to a halt, his way blocked by another Hydra operative.

He should have known. There was nowhere to run. The man had a gun, and he would simply shoot him before he got the chance. He fell on one knee as his exhaustion made itself be known again, leaning against the wall to his right. It was over.

He heard a yell from behind him: the man who was chasing him before was lifted into the air and dropped at a bone-breaking height, while the one standing infront of him fell back as an arrow buried itself into his shoulder. Bucky pushed himself to stand, studying the rooftops, but saw no one.

The sound of footsteps from the direction he came from suggested the chase was far from over. He gave everything he had left into his escape, darting out of the other end of the alleyway and through the streets.

Two more men were running towards him from the front, but before he could stop or even slow down, a men dressed in red flanked them from the side, clubs in each of his hands coming down hard against their head. He spun around, pushing both of them down at the same time by hooking their necks with the crook of his elbows and twisting them to the ground.

'That way,' he said, pointing to the right. While the man in red dealt the last blows to the Hydra operatives, the fugitive made a run for it in the direction he was indicating. For a while his escape wasn't interrupted. Sometimes he'd see more of Hydra's men with an arrow sticking out of them, or simply knocked out.

Just when he became unsure in which direction he should take, a man with wings swooped down and landed in front of him. He recognized him as the man he thought just about a year before. Was he here to help him, or get revenge? He kept his guard up, waiting for the man to make the first move.

'Bucky.'

Nobody ever really talked to him, and even when they did, they never called him Bucky. He never told them a name they could call him by. But it felt right. He _was_ Bucky.

'I know you,' Bucky rasped. He hasn't talked much for the past seventy years, especially not in English, but it was the language that came most naturally to him. The man grinned, revealing a gap between his two front teeth. It gave him character.

'You can call me Sam,' he said. 'But we don't have time for a former introduction. I can take you to the others, where you'll be safe. Steve will be ecstatic.'

 _Steve_ , Bucky mouthed. He remembered more and more about Steve each day, but there was a conflict within him. He was his mission. He was taught that his missions were all bad people who deserved to die, who had to die in order for the world to be saved. But over the past few months, he remembered that the world wasn't so simple, and most importantly, that Steve could never be the terrible person he was told he was.

So he nodded, ignoring the paranoid voice in the back of his head that was yelling at him that this was another trap, that there was no Steve at the end of this line, that he was walking into his doom. The little voice that saved his life countless of times before. It was no longer in charge.

No more conflict arose during their trip to the edge of Hell's Kitchen. They stayed off the streets, avoiding pedestrians and cameras, under the blanket of night. They arrived at an old, narrow street that was completely devoid of civilians. A large car was waiting for them there, and three other men. One of them he recognized from before as the horned man that saved him earlier, the other must have been the one shooting all the arrows, and the third…

'Bucky,' Steve was breathless when he saw his old friend appear beside Sam, frozen in place as he walked closer. The adrenaline that kept Bucky going up to this point was suddenly all gone, starvation, dehydration and sleep-deprivation replacing it, crashing into him like a wave. His knees gave in and he fell forward, but Steve caught him. It was hard to keep his eyes open. 'It's over, Bucky,' he heard Steve say, soothingly. 'You can rest now.'

'Huh,' was the only sound Bucky managed to make before the world faded.

* * *

 **Ok, this is a good place to end the chapter, but then it'd be too short. Instead, you could maybe take a break, have some snacks, do your business, whatever… Alright, back to the story:**

* * *

'Anything…' Foggy began, cheerily, then switched to a much more nonchalant tone. 'Anything interesting happen last night?'

Matt sighed. Last night was anything but uneventful, but Foggy was again forgetting that there was a certain third person in earshot who didn't know about Matt's unusual night-time activities.

'Foggy, whatever gave you the impression that my nights are more interesting than yours?' He asked, eyebrows raised to convey his disapproval towards his friend's careless antics.

'Just asking,' Foggy said, leaning back in his chair, turning his attention towards the papers in his hands. Except he didn't exactly do that. Matt knew he was still watching him, urging him to finally tell him what he's been up to lately. He ignored him.

Sooner or later he was gonna have to talk to him about being more discrete.

* * *

Bucky came to in a simple, white room with a view of what appeared to be a training field. He took in a large breath and let it out slowly, looking around the room. This was the first time he was able to rest well since… since the War, he realized. Whatever he did as the Winter Soldier wasn't like resting, it was like being shelved.

'Bucky,' Steve's voice came from his right, and he turned his head to look at him.

There Steve was, in all his blond might, sitting beside his bed on a chair that was as white and sterile as the rest of the room.

'How are you feeling?' He asked.

'Hungry,' Bucky replied, putting his right hand on his loudly-growling stomach. Steve laughed, warmly smiling hopefully at him.

'I don't see how my starvation is a laughing matter to you,' he said, surprising even himself with the choice of words that left his mouth. It was hard to stop, almost a reflex, an old habit that was brought to the surface by Steve's presence. Steve looked like he was unsure whether Bucky was being serious or joking, resulting in a very weird expression on his face. 'That was a joke,' Bucky said. Steve let out a relieved breath before chuckling some more. 'I _am_ very hungry, though.'

'I bet you are,' Steve said, and stood up from his seat. Bucky did the same, getting off of the bed without any difficulty. There was something a bit different about his left arm, though. He brought it before himself to see what it was.

The robotic limb was polished, and while the damaged plates were removed, exposing the mechanics beneath, it moved much more smoothly than it has for months.

'Some of our technicians did some repairs,' Steve explained, noticing his friend's surprise. 'I know someone who could make some improvements, but… We're not in talking terms right now. Sorry.'

Bucky didn't say anything, just stared at Steve until he started walking towards the kitchen again. It was a neat, modern kitchen, with everything one would need, from dishwasher to a very complicated but modern-looking coffee machine. Although he spent most of his life – or at least time alive – being hibernated, he was more or less up to date on technology. It was expected of him to know what each machine was capable of in order to be as efficient as possible.

'So… cereal?'

Bucky glared at Steve even more.

'Right,' Steve seemed a little disappointed, but he got the message. 'Straight to the good stuff, then,' he said and opened the fridge.

* * *

 **This interpretation of Bucky might seem a bit weird, but I have my reasons. I thought that since it's been over a year since he has been out there, he had some time to adjust. So while he's not completely himself yet, bits of his old identity are leaking through.**

 **Anyway, I think maybe it might be better to end his crossover fic here, and maybe do a continuation that's not a crossover, and is instead solely on one of these heroes. Tell me what you think about that, and if you'd be interested in a separate Daredevil and separate Captain America fic.**

 **Cheers!**

 **EDIT: Look, I thought I made it clear that this is the final chapter to this fic just now and by changing it's status to "complete". I wasn't planning to continue it, having gotten out of ideas for a crossover. However, I'm up for separate continuations in both the "Daredevil" and the "Captain America" categories.**

 **With Regards,**

 **~TAB**


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